Infinitely Losing My Edge
Yeah, I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge.
The kids are coming up from behind.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge to the kids from Bulgaria and from Sao Paulo.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Soft Boys show in Cambridge.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge to the kids whose footsteps I hear when they get on the decks.
I'm losing my edge to the internet seekers who can tell me every member of every good group from 1960 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lille and Portland.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Woodstock kids in little jackets and borrowed nostalgia for the unremembered nineties.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge.
I can hear the footsteps every night on the decks.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983 at the first Art of Noise practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the güiro sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine started up his first band.
I told him, "Don't do it that way. You'll never make a dime."
I was there.
I was the first guy playing Charles Mingus to the dance kids.
I played it at Trash.
Everybody thought I was crazy.
We all know.
I was there.
I was there.
I've never been wrong.
But I'm losing my edge to better-looking people with better ideas and more talent.
And they're actually really, really nice.
I'm losing my edge.
I heard you have a compilation of every good song ever done by anybody.
Every great song by Man Eating Sloth. All the underground hits.
All Nico tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Pulsallama record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Donald Byrd record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Ponytail,
Wire,
Avey Tare,
Bobby Byrd,
Bill Wells,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Wasted Youth,
Carl Craig,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Danielle Patucci,
Black Pus,
Alice Coltrane,
Wally Richardson,
Stockholm Monsters,
Todd Rundgren,
Joensuu 1685,
Infiniti,
Blossom Toes,
Make Up,
Crime,
Nick Fraelich,
The Golliwogs,
UT,
X-Ray Spex,
Eli Mardock,
Technova,
Grandmaster Flash,
Roxy Music,
Dennis Brown,
Crooked Eye,
Pharoah Sanders,
The Star Department,
Isaac Hayes,
KRS-One,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Jacques Brel,
Main Source,
Von Mondo,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Harpers Bizarre,
Gastr Del Sol,
Angry Samoans,
Lungfish,
Crash Course in Science,
The Raincoats,
Jandek,
Slick Rick,
Donald Byrd,
The Offenders,
D'Angelo,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Lucky Dragons,
Radiohead,
Kurtis Blow,
Ludus,
This Heat,
Althea and Donna,
Junior Murvin,
Rufus Thomas, Rufus Thomas, Rufus Thomas, Rufus Thomas.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.